


Grey

by bigblueboxat221b



Series: Mystrade Prompt Challenge Oct 2018 [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anniversary, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Established Relationship, Foreplay, M/M, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 16:51:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16371434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/bigblueboxat221b
Summary: For the Mystrade Prompt Challenge: Mycroft offers to examine the evidence.





	Grey

**Author's Note:**

> Your dialogue: "Are you joking?" and "So... you changed your mind?"
> 
> The circumstances...in a hotel, on an anniversary
> 
> And you must use the word...grey

 

“You know why I love the hotels you pick, right?” Greg grinned at his husband from across the lavish room.

“Room service?” Mycroft replied.

“Well, yeah,” Greg admitted, walking over to look out their window. He turned, a mischievous look in his eyes. “But mainly it’s the solid construction.”

“Solid construction?” Mycroft asked, frowning.

“Yeah,” Greg said. “Nice thick walls mean I can make you scream and we won’t get in trouble.”

“Gregory,” Mycroft admonished him, stepping closer in the casual way Greg knew was not actually casual at all. “As I recall the last complaints we received were regarding your noise.”

“Well, that too,” Greg replied, unashamedly. “You have a knack for making this old man weak at the knees, you know.”

“Old man,” Mycroft scoffed, easing up against Greg. “You are barely a handful of years older than I, Gregory.”

“Not what my hair says,” Greg replied.

“Dare I suggest that the hair on your head is not indicative of your actual age?”

“I have grey hairs all over, Myc, which you well know.”

Mycroft’s face took on a carefully innocent expression. “I do not, husband. I have not seen a grey hair anywhere but your head in my extensive explorations.”

“Really.” Greg’s expression was sceptical to say the least.

“Indeed,” Mycroft shot back. “However I will admit I have not always been examining each hair individually.”

“Shoddy forensics are the bane of my very exista- OW!”

Mycroft looked up, unrepentant, though his tongue was soothing over the light bite mark on Greg’s neck. “There is only one way to settle this argument,” he said.

Goosebumps broke out across Greg’s neck at the tone of Mycroft’s voice. “Really?” he managed. It wasn’t a squeak, an opinion he was prepared to defend to the death.

“Strip,” Mycroft whispered. “So I may better examine every inch of you.”

Greg was half undressed before Mycroft finished speaking, kicking his jeans and pants across the room. He was hard already, the very suggestion of Mycroft’s attention on his nude body sending blood rush south. Grinning, he stepped into the middle of the room, arms outstretched.

“Hmm.” Mycroft leaned close, hands clasped behind his back. He looked closely, breath washing over Greg’s skin as he examined shoulders, chest, back, moving slowly around him, only his gentle humming and the light caress of his breath giving away his position as he shifted behind Greg.

“Myc,” Greg moaned as his skin begged to be touched.

“Yes?” Mycroft asked, breathing a warm patch over the small of Greg’s back.

“How’s it going?” Greg ~~squeaked~~ asked.

“Not a grey in sight, and I am being very thorough,” Mycroft replied.

Greg endured for another few moments as Mycroft appeared to pay particular attention to his calves and knees. The sight of him on his knees, breathing warm air over Greg’s thighs as he looked intently over every inch of skin, was too much.

“Myc,” Greg whimpered (there was no denying it now). “Please…”

Mycroft sat back on his heels, gaze wandering up Greg’s body to meet his eyes. “Yes?”

“Touch me,” Greg begged. “Please, touch me…”

“So…you changed your mind?”

"Are you joking?" Greg exhaled a shaky laugh which evolved into a groan as Mycroft breathed a long breath over the cock straining before him.

“Not at all,” Mycroft murmured. “I will almost certainly lose my ability to focus if I touch you, and we would never find out exactly how many grey hairs you do have.” His expression was attempting to be grave, but the sparkle in his eyes gave it away.

“I don’t care,” Greg groaned. “I do not care how many grey hairs I do or do not have anywhere.”

Mycroft smirked up at him, one finger finally coming up to run down Greg’s cock, sending a shiver down him. Smoothly, he stood, fingers wrapping around Greg as he kissed his husband.

“Happy anniversary,” Mycroft whispered. “Do try to be a little quieter this year.”

“That’s why I let you chose the hotel,” Greg panted, grinning.


End file.
